Amazon
by remind me again
Summary: Remember, the Amazon women cannot be tamed as slaves. They are as free as the wild horses upon the plain.
1. Chapter 1

Hey. This is my first Homer fic (I hate to describe it like that). I've studied the Iliad at college but probably won't be totally true to it, so please don't refer to this for expert knowledge! Please review xx

Amazon

_SMACK!!_

Phoebe grimaced as the man's hand made contact with her behind. Roaring with laugher he made to pull her on to his lap but she spun angrily around, ready to bring the heavy pottery plate she was carrying crashing down on his head. But before she could dent his skull several strong pairs of hands were laid on her and she writhed like a snake, revolted at their touch.

The Great King Agamemnon rose, swaying drunkenly, from his throne, and roared, "what are you doing _slave girl_, attempting to attack the men of King Agamemnon's army."

He staggered towards her while she struggled uselessly against the hands that held her fast. His great red face was barely an inch from her own and she could smell the bitter wine on his breath "I should have you beaten for your impertinence," he snarled. Phoebe stared resolutely up at him determined not to be the first to look away.

"Be careful King of Kings," said the man Phoebe knew to be the trickster Odysseus, "that is an Amazon warrior, they cannot be tamed as ordinary slaves."

"She's certainly not ordinary," sniggered another man reaching out to touch her robe, "Do you have a name girl?"

"She hasn't said a word since she was brought to me at first light, I think her dumb," laughed Agamemnon cruelly while Phoebe burnt inside from the insult, "she is a pretty one" he continued grabbing her chin, "and it will be well for her to warm my bed tonight."

Phoebe's stomach turned at the very idea and she lashed out again, furious at her treatment at the hands of men.

"It is told that the Amazon women would sooner cut their throats than be bedded by a man not of their choice," warned Odysseus looking hard a the Great King.

"I fear she will not have a choice about it!" roared the King of Mycenaean as Phoebe snapped at the hand he extended towards her face.

"Hear my warning my Lord, the Amazon women cannot be tamed. They are as the horses that run wild on the plains; you reign them in but just when you think they are safe to touch they rear away wrenching the leather from your hands."

"What business is it of your what I do with my slaves? If she was such a great warrior she would not have been taken, as it is she shall serve me!"

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;-) please review


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys! Thank you so much for all your reviews, I didn't know this story would be so popular! At the moment I'm not sure who thelove interest will be so please tell me any ideas you have. I was possibly thinking of Patroklos as I think he gets a very rough deal! Well enjoy ;-) xx

Sarah - I'm pleased you liked the last chapter! Hopefully I'm exploring the characters more in this one.

AlibethBooks - Thank youfor the advice, this is more of a realistic story than the Iliad, less divineintervention!

Brandy Lebeau - Glad you like the story, this isn't really an Odysseus fic, he's married! Butkeep an eye out for Achilles!hope you like the new chapter.

Kaitlyn - Thanks for your review, I hope you like the new chapter! I'll try and make this a good story, but please feel free to suggest anything!

Queen Arwen - I know, I'm not a fan of Agamemnoneither!I'm pleased you like Phoebe, enjoy!

Dazzler420 - thank you for your review, I hope you like this and review again!

ZELINIA - I'm so pleased you like my story and aren't worried about the slight changing of the story! review again

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Phoebe bit her tongue. How dare they treat her like this, how dare they? The crowd of men swam before her eyes and she scowled in frustration. She'd get out of here, as quickly as she could she'd be gone.

She tried to remain inconspicuous for the rest of the night but was ever watching and listening, she was being held here against her will but if she could catch one strand of a weakness in the Greeks she would report it back to Hektor.

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It was late when the rowdy hoard of men spilled out of Agamemnon's ship and Phoebe was left with a few other slave girls to clear the tables. She did it, although she despised it, to be a maid was not her role in life. Her stomach growled with hunger and she snatched a chunk of bread from one of the bowls, turning her back on the other girls. None of them spoke to her and from the look in their eyes she knew they feared her. Silly children she thought them, they would never know anything other than this. But she knew, she knew the freedom all too well.

A heavy curtain swished behind her to reveal two male salves.

"Amazon" one said "King Agamemnon wishes your presence in his chamber immediately."

Phoebe bowed her head slightly in reluctant acquiescence and knew that the plan she had been forming would have to be carried out now.

Turning her back on the slaves she reached for a golden drinking goblet and filled it with wine. Out of sight she crumbled dried herds in to the red liquid and she took the cup in both hands so she wouldn't spill any. She smiled at the slaves and followed them through the curtain to a small chamber set at the back of the beached ship. They waved her into it and bowing left.

Agamemnon sat in an ornate stone chair picking unenthusiastically at a plate of fruit in front of him. He looked up as Phoebe entered and beckoned her to him. She bowed to him, as she knew she should and offered him the goblet praying he would take it. The king glanced at it for a second and called for a slave that had been standing unnoticed in the shadows. He took the cup from her hand but immediately handed it to the salve who took a small sip. Agamemnon watched him closely but nothing happened. Apparently satisfied the king snatched the wine back and took a deep gulp. Phoebe smiled in triumph; her drug was slow working.

Agamemnon gestured for her to sit at his feet on the woven throws spread on the floor and said "I won't lie to you my Amazon warrior when I tell you that you are one of the most impressive prizes I have won during this war. Not only are you as fair as smiling Athena herself you also are in close acquaintance with man killing Hektor so my men tell me, you even fight at his side. Now, what is your name?"

She didn't answer her insides burning at the slight on Hektor. Agamemnon frowned.

"Come child," he barked, "I may not be your King but you will answer me"

Again she didn't speak.

She could tell he was getting frustrated; no one disobeyed Agamemnon.

He changed tactics, "Then tell me, what news do you have to offer of the Trojans. I will reward you handsomely if your stories turn out to be true."

She stared at him in disbelief; he didn't honestly expect her to betray her Queen so easily.

"I have heard of the loyalty of the Amazons," he continued suddenly lunging down and seizing her wrist and holding the knife he had been using to cut the fruit against her throat, "but if you will not tell me what you know I will find ways of forcing you!"

His dark eyes burned in to hers and for the first time Phoebe felt fear well up inside her. She was alone, no one could help her now and she was weapon-less.

A soft thump from the corner turned Agamemnon's eyes, which widened at the sight of the salve slumped against the wall.

A flash of fear arose in his eyes when his eyes fell on the wine goblet.

"What have you done to me!" he demanded the colour fading from his face as his grip on her wrist failed.

He released her as he fell back in his chair, his eyes shut, the goblet standing empty beside him.

Phoebe let out a deep breath. She glanced quickly around her searching for a weapon- she could kill him now, put an end to Troy's suffering.

She stood quickly but faint voices reached her ears from behind the curtain.

"My Lord?"

She spun around; there was no time.

"My Lord, I have a message from Odysseus, he says the embassy to Achilles failed. He will not accept an apology."

Phoebe grinned, there was weakness in the Greek armour.

"My Lord?"

She hurried to the side of the chamber seizing the knife Agamemnon had used to threaten her and ripped the canvas that had been stretched over the ship to form its roof. The material tore easily and forcing herself through Phoebe glanced down at the shallow black water below her. She glanced over her shoulder as one of the guards came through the curtain. He yelled out as she threw herself into the sea.


	3. Chapter 3

Good evening! Well, chapter 3 is finally here! I'm SO sorry that it took so long, you guys really do deserve better!

Thank you so much to my amazing reviewers, you guys are awesome!

In answer to Mitsuki's question – I've messed around with time a little here; the Amazons came to Troy after Hektor died. Twelve of them, hand picked and led by their Queen Penthesilia who, determined to prove that anything a man could do she could do better, went face to face with Achilles and funnily enough lost. He however fell in love with her just as he killed her (sorry Briseis fans but Achilles love about 4 women during the course of the war) and carried her off the battlefield to save her or to let her die peacefully. Aww romantic huh!

Anyway on with the show!

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Phoebe gasped as she hit the water; it was shallower than she had expected and she jarred her ankle on the sand. She cast a look back at the ship. That hadn't been the quiet escape she had hoped for. She tested her foot and grimaced, cursing her ill fortune but began to wade out of the sea; she had endured much worse.

She knew they would be following her, she had just committed a serious crime, and an attack on Agamemnon would not go unpunished. Quickly she skirted around the first rows of huts planted into the beach and melted into the darkness.

She almost ran through the camp keeping her head down to avoid being noticed but most of the soldiers were asleep, no doubt drugged by capacious amounts of wine. She stole a furtive glance behind her and saw the flickering of searchlights spring up among the huts. She stopped briefly to catch her breath and was horrified at the scale of the Achaeans camp. It stretched in every direction beyond the horizon and Phoebe tried desperately to get her bearings. To escape without notice would involve following the shore round the head land in the East as it would be impossible to find a way out of the fortifications, but this would take her right through the camp. The sound of approaching footsteps made her turn sharply to see two lightly armoured soldiers advancing towards her. Glancing around she seized a spear from its rack outside a hut and hurled it with all her might at the closest man. Her aim was true and the shining bronze buried itself in the soft part of his neck where the armour stopped before the helmet. The man fell, his face soiled by the sand and his horrified companion drew his sword with a sharp ring. But before he could take a step towards her the sound of slow applause rang through the still night.

Phoebe span on her heel to face the new comer and felt her blood run cold; it was Achilles. She had seen this man fight and knew well to fear him, if the phrase 'god like' was to be attached to any it was him. He could terrify men with a mere glance and any who dared face him fell by his bronze sword. He had captured twenty-three towns under Trojan protection, that she knew of, cutting off the supply lines. Now here he stood calmly applauding her kill. She seized another spear, if she was going to die by his hand it would be with honor. But he merely raised his eyebrows at her and said,

"Where did you learn to cast a spear with such force slave?"

Phoebe frowned, "I am no ones slave Achilles son of Peleus" she snarled, "and a well aim spear, thrown with little strength can kill a man as well as one cast with great force if the armour it strikes is weak."

"I would not know of this" he said, "You know of my name and yet I do not know yours" he replied.

"It is mine and I keep it as I please" she retorted, "now if you'll excuse me I must be leaving!"

He quickly sidestepped to block her exit.

"I said I do not know your name but I know who you are. You are the Amazon warrior prize Agamemnon won yesterday, are you not? This is strange as I thought the Amazon women were never taken still breathing and if they are, they are seldom alive the next morning."

"Won would be the wrong term. I am no ones prize to be taken and forgotten. I was denied the chance to die with honour and would cast myself into the sea and give my body to Poseidon if there was glory to be found that way!"

He laughed out loud at that, "I see you seek the same as I, to die with honour and have our names echo across the vastness of eternity." Phoebe started; his blue eyes had a rather manic gleam in them as they looked away from her towards the heavens. He quickly snapped them back to her and said,

"Agamemnon has done me a great evil. There are many ways to win renown, I have not the oratory skills of Odysseus but I can gain honour through my fighting skills and plunder. He sits watching as the army wins victory after victory merely to gain the rewards. Well, now he has gone too far in taking the girl I won at Lyrnessus to replace his own. It is his stupidity and pride that allows him to commit this folly or it is the will of fearsome Ate(1). Now, here before me stands his own prize who I'll wager he'll give no small compensation for her return. Let him know the dishonor he has piled upon me!"

"Then it is pride and not love that creates your anger, this girl is merely a possession you want returned."

He smiled, "yes, of course you are right. If we cannot keep hold of our property what kind of hero are we in the eyes of the men?"

Phoebe frowned; she had dealt with such men before but none as powerful as the one standing before her. They said his mother was an immortal goddess, which worried her not a little. She paid her due respect to the gods of course but had always feared their power, Zeus the cloud gather, Athena goddess of wisdom and, most importantly, Ares god of war and Artemis the virgin huntress. She was the Amazons protector and guardian and the sisters bowed down before her. As for Ares, Phoebe knew the rumours amongst the Trojans that the Amazons were his daughters and that the girdle worn by their late Queen Hippolyte was a gift from the god himself. Phoebe didn't know if there was truth behind these claims but it could strike fear in to the hearts of many. Yet she knew the power of the gods and if it was true that they favored this man then she had walked open eyed in to danger.

"Come Amazon do not fear me," he teased, "this way you will survive the war!"

She took a few hurried steps backward as he advanced towards her but before she could turn around she collided with a solid mass standing behind her. A giant of a man blocked her path and grinned wickedly at her as he tried to pin her arms to her sides. She squirmed in his arms and plunged the shinning tip of the spear in to his foot. His yell nearly deafened her as she fell from his grasp. Distantly she could hear Achilles laughing at her as she searched in vain for another exit.

"You fight like a she-lion" he mocked "too brave for your own good" and in one bound he was at her side and darkness covered her eyes.

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Well what do you think! Please please review!

A million thank yous to ZELINIA, Queen Arwen, love my man, Brandy Lebeau, AlibethBooks, Academia, Mitsuki, Redneck Chick, Athena's wolf, darkrosepetals122

(1)The goddess of evil and misfortune who could cloud a mans wits. Agamemnon blames her for making him take Briseis in the Iliad.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, here we go! Chapter 4! I hope you all enjoy this and sorry about the wait! You get to meet Patroklos in this one and I really hope you like the way I've portrayed him!

Please review!

Over and out

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In the suffocating darkness Phoebe wrenched her eyes open as a bolt of pain shot through her head. She tried to run her fingers over the wound but found that her hands were bound in front of her and one foot was tied to a stake driven in to the soft ground. She let out a yell of frustration. She was cold, weary and her stomach felt hollow from lack of food. There was blood matted in her hair and on her forehead. Angrily she thrashed out against her bonds in a fit of rage, suddenly seeming more like a wild animal than a woman. She was in a small hut sunk in to the sand of the beach. Roughly woven mats covered the floor and what little light there was came from a small oil burner set on a stand in the corner, for the moonlight couldn't penetrate the leather covering of the door. Angrily Phoebe surveyed her prison and her stormy gaze landed on the glinting breastplate of a magnificent collection of armour. Realizing whose tent she must be in, she lashed out again, accidentally knocking into a bronze tripod containing libation. It fell with a crash and Phoebe watched in horror as the dark wine disappeared in to the sand. From beyond the leather flap she heard the sound of running feet and fought even harder to free herself, ignoring the rope cutting into her wrists. But not even the Amazons can cut their bonds without a knife and she let out a snarl, as the curtain was pushed roughly aside.

The man who stood outlined in the doorframe was not the one she expected. He resembled Achilles, yet he was younger and didn't have the same divine glow. His surprised eyes ran over the fallen tripod and the woman tied to the floor. Phoebe scowled back, shuffling away from the pale silver light thrown through the door. Patroklos strode forward and to Phoebe's surprise carefully lifted and replaced the tripod. He glanced down at her and smiled. Phoebe frowned shifting as far as she could from him, an intense distrust filling her soul.

"You are the Amazon prisoner?" Patroklos asked, although he already knew the answer. "I am Menoetius' son Patroklos, may I have your name?" Phoebe merely glared at him and refused to answer.

"Even Amazons have names," he laughed but again she didn't answer. "Then I shall call you Aphrodite for you are just as beautiful as she."

Phoebe's eyebrows shot into her hairline and she spat "go find one of your whores to entertain you, I will not be treated like one of them!"

"That's not your choice," he replied, "but I mean you no harm." He crouched down in front of her and pulled a knife from his belt. Phoebe struck out with her free foot knocking it from his hand, "don't touch me!" she shouted.

"I said I mean you no harm," he snapped, "I was going to cut the ropes but I'll leave you tied to the floor if you want!"

She scowled and sighing heavily, held her wrists out to him. In a flash of bronze the bonds were cut and Phoebe was on her feet and almost through the door when she ran against the solid bodies of several guards standing outside.

"I was told you were flightily," laughed Patroklos as she was bundled unceremoniously back into the hut.

"Well I had to try," she replied coolly.

"Here," he said throwing a dress of light stormy blue at her.

She snatched it out of the air before tossing it casually aside, "its beautiful," she said, not bothering to keep the lie from her voice.

"Achilles wants you to wear it," he replied, "you must look your best when you return to Agamemnon in the morning."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I shall keep all the food for myself!" he laughed, knowing she how hungry she must be by now.

"Fine" she snapped, snatching the now rather crumpled material from the floor. She turned, gave him an accusing look and waited until he had left with a roll of his eyes.

Quickly she pulled her rough white tunic over her head unaware of the gaze upon her.

Patroklos stood outside the hut as the Amazon had wanted but that didn't stop him watching her. He put his face by the crack between the leather curtain and the wall. He'd never met a woman like this before; a woman who thought herself a mans equal. The light from the oil burner flickered and he was startled to see a couple of thin white scars running down her body. They were all on the front as they should be on a warrior and told tales of many battles fought and won. A pale circle glimmered on an otherwise flawless shoulder and Patroklos guessed an arrow had once lodged itself there long ago. Across her stomach there was a more recent wound that was still not fully healed. That was another thing that was unusual about her; he'd never seen a woman like the one he was spying on. She was so different from the women in Greece or even the Trojan slaves they had caught. Instead of pale white arms her skin was tanned and smooth from years in the sun. Her wavy hair was so dark it was almost a shade of ebony and was allowed to play free down her back, while her black eyes held a wisdom that belied her age. She was slender like the Achaean women yet contained a power and strength that impressed him.

Phoebe pulled the dress over her head and looked down at herself in disgust.

"You can come back now!" she shouted, making Patroklos jump from his vantage point.

He pushed aside the curtain and feeling that he should at least say something gabbled out, "you look…beautiful."

She stared at him as if he was mad, "I look ridiculous!"

He shrugged his shoulders and moved to the other side of the hut where he picked up a large bowl, which he placed on a low table.

Phoebe fell on the food filling her mouth as much as she could, feeling as if she hadn't eaten in a month. She snatched at the cup of wine Patroklos was holding out to her and quickly drained it.

"Slowly" he laughed, "you'll make yourself sick!"

She merely glanced at him, her mouth being too full to speak.

Patroklos waited until she had swallowed and took the opportunity to ask her name again before she took another bite.

She looked up surprised at his question and wondering whether to trust him with something as personal as her name. Eventually she held her head up and proclaimed "Phoebe."

He nodded "daughter of?"

"I don't know," she grinned.

"You have no father!"

"Well I must do but I don't know his name, no Amazon does. They say our father is hateful Ares. Have you ever seen an Amazon fight?" she asked abruptly.

"No" he replied suddenly regretting Achilles decision to leave the battlefield.

"Then you do not see that war is in our blood."

"I have heard the stories but you are just a woman like any other."

Phoebe's eyes flared with a sudden white-hot anger and she was on her feet in a flash.

"Why are you here?" she spat, "you did not come for the pretty Spartan Queen or for revenge on the even prettier Paris!"

By now Patroklos was on his feet and although he was surprised by her sudden change in mood replied, "I come because I follow but also for my own personal glory. Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity, I want my name to echo through the ages."

"And that is why you will never be as strong as me," Phoebe said brazenly, "you fight for honor while I fight to defend what I love and that gives me greater strength than you will ever know."

"It is not the Amazons we siege!"

"Yet it was not from you that Helen was taken! I defend a way of life, if the Amazons fall then all men will have the same view as you and your fool of a leader Achilles!"

"I don't know why he bothered to let you live! We have no use for you here, you can go back to the Trojans for all I care," he shouted, moving to the other side of the tent, pouring himself a beaker of wine although he split most of it on the floor in his anger.

"To tell Hektor that the _hero _Achilles and his Myrmidons have retired from the fighting over a slave girl!"

A flash of anger streaked his eyes, "it is not our will to stay behind but we follow as we should. Agamemnon dishonored Achilles and some things are more important than war! Achilles is a great hero who does what he must!"

"You can call him many things but never call him a hero in front of me!" she hissed.

"He is a hero" Patroklos yelled, "he was my trainer and mentor, there is none better!" Phoebe looked in to his clear blue eyes and saw a weakness she could use- his pride.

Suddenly she smiled and Patroklos was once again disturbed by her swift change in mood.

"Show me," she said.

"What?"

"Show me, fight me," she smiled playfully, " If I win you let me go, if you win…well that won't happen!" she laughed, toying with his conceit and watching as anger played across his face.

He didn't respond except to snatch two spears from the rack by the wall. He tossed one to her, which she caught deftly.

"You'd better be ready for this," he said.

"No ones beaten me yet," she replied, "but I want your word that if I win you'll let me go."

"You have my word."

"Good" she grinned lunging forward and drawing a small shallow cut on his chest. Patroklos glanced down at the thin line of blood blossoming through the material of his tunic before thrusting the gleaming point of the spear at Phoebe. She dodged it deftly and he found himself wrong footed as his force carried him too far. Using the blunt end of the spear the Amazon hit him behind the legs so his knees buckled.

"You can do better than that," she beamed, watching as he straightened back up again. She whirled the spear in front of her blocking his next blow before pouncing forward herself. But the shot whistled past his ear as he threw himself sideways and brought his own weapon in front of hers. This time she wasn't so lucky and felt the cold touch of bronze as it bit across her arm.

She glanced down, "not bad."

Patroklos launched himself forward again, determined not to be beaten. But Phoebe knocked the point of the spear away and he realized she used his speed and strength against him. Once again he stumbled and suddenly found himself on his back as the Amazon kicked his legs out from under him. In an instant Phoebe was crouching in front of him the tip of her spear grazing his throat. Patroklos looked in to her eyes and saw with a start that she enjoyed the fight and finally, the kill.

"No wonder Achilles doesn't let you fight," she sneered, letting the spear drop to the floor and extending her hand to pull him back up. "But don't worry," she continued glancing down at the shining line of blood on her arm, "you left a mark."

Patroklos frowned as he grabbed her hand and she helped him up. "I knew the rumors but you truly are a daughter of Ares," he gasped trying to get his breath back and watching as the fiery warrior returned to the aloof maiden.

"Our bargain," she said sternly, as a statement rather than a question and with a sinking feeling Patroklos realized he was going to have to disobey direct orders.

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hehe! Fun! Go on press the pretty blue button…I dare you!

Please tell me what you think!

Hugs, kisses and many fine heroes in short skirts to - darkrosepetals122, Academia, redneck chick, Athena's wolf, ZELINIA, Maggie, mya, Brandy Lebeau, Queen Arwen, Cleris, Natalie33


	5. Chapter 5

Greetings dear friends! At last the burden of A Levels has fallen from my shoulders and so I am back with chapter 5! I know, I can hear you muttering 'it took you long enough', but I promise I will do better. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, moonrider, Priscilla, foreeverjinxed, Gaby, Ripley's Believe It or Not, Outsider Wolf, Alibethbooks, Lady Discord, Brandy Lebeau, kp, Elaine BloomFeltonGrintRadcliffe, Cleris, Queen Arwen, mail order heroes are winging their way to you!

Thanks especially to Priscilla who has created a fantastic front cover for this story! The link is in my profile!

Thank you all for your patience and for sticking with me, please review but above all enjoy!

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The chariot of Selene was beginning to plunge in to the watery depths of the realm of Poseidon and Patroklos knew the morning call would soon sound out, harsh against the still clear sky.

Phoebe looked down at herself and let out a short peel of laugher, "I look ridiculous. I was more comfortable in the dress."

Patroklos grinned at her, unsure what to say and equally unsure of his actions so he kept his eyes to the ground and his mouth shut.

Phoebe moved uneasily under the heavy bronze armour. She was unused to such trappings and the harsh metal caught under her arms. Her own armour was light, containing more leather than bronze but this was the covering of a soldier, a hero even, and it weighed heavily on her shoulders.

"Are you sure about this?" she muttered, trying to ease the straps digging into her dark sun burnt skin.

"Of course," Patroklos replied, "don't you trust me?"

"Well, you are an Achaean," she smirked and even as these words left her lips to hang uneasily in the air between them, the man who stood before her was suddenly plunged into a new light. He may be an Achaean but he was different to the imperialist dogs controlled by Agamemnon. He still possessed that air of pride along with the body and mentality of a trained man. Yet he seemed untainted by a life of war, he still believed it was heroic to wipe the life from a man's eyes. His own were blue as the sea and shining with war lust. She wondered where he came from, what made him leave his home and if he should have stayed there, after all no man would return alive from Troy. If he had heard and seen the things she had done he wouldn't be so eager to throw his life away or be looking at her the way he did.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen around them.

Patroklos was disconcerted for a second, wrong footed by the abrupt question. He wasn't an eloquent speaker at the best of times and found it hard to counter the honey coated words of the council and would often find himself either saying too much or sitting in silence.

"I gave you my word," he decided would be the best response.

"Most leaders would have forgotten the bargain and returned me to Agamemnon for as higher price as they could swindle."

Patroklos frowned at this, she was challenging him again, but after all there was no doubt that this was what Achilles would have done. Yet if he had been Achilles, Phoebe would be on her way to Hades with bronze coins covering her eyes.

"It changes nothing, you are still my enemy in the morning."

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders; she wouldn't have it any other way. As it was she wasn't going to let it be know that she had received help from an Achaean. She never asked for help.

Patroklos watched her as she struggled to make his armour fit. "Here," he said handing her his helmet and accidentally brushing the back of her hand as she took it from him. He felt her flinch at the touch and she took an involuntary step backwards.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF HADES ARE YOU DOING!" a sudden voice roared through the hut.

"Achilles!" Patroklos gasped, spinning on his heels to face the open tent flap and the sudden light from the newly risen sun that shot though the gap.

He had never seen his cousin so angry. His face was a mask of wrath and there was a dangerous glint in his eye.

Before either Phoebe or Patroklos could do anything Achilles slammed his fist into Patroklos' jaw in a blow that sent him crashing to the floor. He blinked against the white lights that were bursting in front of his eyes and spat out the blood that came pouring in to his mouth.

Phoebe's eyes flickered from the man on the floor to the one standing glowering with rage before her.

"Achilles I…" Patroklos began only to have is words drowned out in the torrent of abuse that poured from Achilles' lips.

"You bastard!" he roared, striding over at pulling his young cousin abruptly to his feet by the front of his tunic. Patroklos gasped as Achilles' fist tightened against his throat.

"Why is the Amazon slave wearing your armour cousin?" Achilles snarled although he already knew the answer, giving Patroklos a violent shake, "and try not to lie to me."

Patroklos glanced over to Phoebe who had thrown the helmet to the floor and was fumbling with the straps of the armour to remove it.

"You were helping her flee!" Achilles laughed bitterly, dropping his cousin to the floor as he heard the heavy bronze armour fall.

Phoebe lunged away from his grasping hands, ripping aside the leather curtain and on stumbling feet threw herself from the hut. But she did not get far, Achilles' shout had roused the Myrmidons and she found herself penned in by hardened soldiers whose battle lust had not yet been fulfilled.

She straightened her back in what she hoped was a contemptuous manner but knew it would be folly to resist the hands which forced her back inside.

"You are already proving to be more trouble than you are worth," Achilles muttered, coming up close to her and holding her chin hard so she could look nowhere but in to his face, "what witch craft you used on my cousin I do not know but I tell you now that if there was not a cause greater than your death I would have slit your throat already. Do not take me for the fool that my cousin is."

Phoebe snorted her distain as two pairs of hands were laid upon her.

"Take her to the King," Achilles commanded flinging the curtain open wide to reveal the nearly fully risen sun.

Patroklos staggered to his feet, as Phoebe was bundled out of the hut and for a brief moment his eyes locked on to hers and in the clear black depths he saw a flicker of fire. She shouldn't be locked away, Odysseus was right. She was as wild as the horses on the plain and it was mistaken to imprison her in a cage. Yet another emotion contended with her natural pride, a brief glimmer of desperation and even fear. Lead fell in to the pit of his stomach as he watched her being dragged away and for a short-lived moment felt he had betrayed her.

The sun hit Phoebe full in the face, as she was man handled through the door. It rebounded off the sea turning the water into a carpet of a million dancing rays of light. The sky was the pale blue which promised another burning day. There was no point in struggling and she was half carried, half dragged down the beach to Agamemnon's ship, her bare feet catching on the rough sand.

The curtains were drawn back to allow her guards entrance and Achilles stalked in behind her, forcing her to her knees before the raised dais at the end of the room. Her skin was grazed on the raised planks of the floor and Phoebe mumbled a curse under her breath.

"What is the meaning of this?" Agamemnon growled from the throne absently picking at a plate in front of him.

Achilles glowered at him saying, " You should keep greater care of the prizes you claim."

"What do you want Achilles?" Agamemnon replied regarding him suspiciously and hardly sparing a glance for the Amazon on the floor, "have you come to apologize?"

"Not on your life."

"So your brought me the bitch back, how kind."

"Think of it more as an exchange. You have something of mine and I have something of yours."

Phoebe could feel the tension tighten and the two men glared at each other from opposite ends of the room. Achilles flexed his fingers as if wishing he could grasp his sword while Agamemnon glanced around to make sure his Mycenaean guards were still in position with an expression on his face that spoke of a strong desire to string Achilles to the front of the ship.

"You want the Lyrnessus slave girl back!" the King roared with laughter. "This Amazon is no better than a common soldier but twice as deadly, I have no use for her. However she is mine to do what I will, as is Briseis." He casually waved his hand at the two men standing by his side and they hurried forward to pull Phoebe roughly to her feet. She stumbled a little and felt the room spin briefly. Agamemnon rose quickly from his throne and strode towards her.

"You have caused me much trouble, my dear," he sneered, "but believe me it will not go unnoticed. A King must discipline his subjects or dissention among the ranks will grow. Put her in the cell," he ordered the men with a wicked glance at Phoebe, who stared at him blinking slowly, which disconcerted the great King slightly.

"Wait!" Achilles roared, "what about my end of the bargain."

"What bargain?" Agamemnon barked, "You should have thought this through. This Amazon is nowhere near as valuable to me as the Lyrnessus girl so there will be no deal. Besides both were already my property you just foolishly brought one back."

"You bastard dog!" Achilles roared striding forward but Agamemnon was safe behind his wall of guards. Phoebe knew Achilles could kill them all if he decided to but luckily he was without a sword. As for the hero himself, Athena goddess of wisdom whispered to him that his chance would come. "You should be more careful who you insult King of Kings my Myrmidons and I no longer hold allegiance to you or your cause, we sail for home at first light tomorrow!"

"Finally you are talking sense Achilles," Agamemnon laughed, forgetting in his moment of triumph the importance of the hero.

Phoebe's mind wondered back to the great black Myrmidon ships as Achilles spoke of leaving and a small wave of pain washed over her. If Achilles left so would his cousin.


	6. Chapter 6

I know, I know, _what took you so long_! Sincerest apologise dear friends. Here finally is the next chapter of my story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and of course thanks for sticking with me even though I'm such a terrible updater, I'm getting professional help I promise!

Enjoy! And remember your favourite author and leave a review! (Only constructive criticism appreciated, if you don't have anything helpful to say don't say anything.)

On with the show!

-

Patroklos sat quietly by the open fire, leaning against the wall of the hut, absentmindedly throwing small stones in the flames, causing them to hiss and spark. The camp was still and silent even though it was the middle of the day. The army had moved out at dawn. Only the Myrmidons and the injured soldiers were left by the shore. The sounds of battle could not be heard from the isolated location of Achilles' tents so Patroklos knew little of the Achaeans fortunes. He had briefly entertained the idea of climbing Mount Ida to watch the fighting while the soldiers were busy preparing the black ships for departure, but he had eventually decided against it. He didn't want to incur the wrath of Achilles any more than he already had. He pulled a smouldering stick from the fire and poked it in to the heart of the flames turning it slowly from glowing red to grey ash.

He sighed deeply glancing at his helmet that sat neatly polished and unused beside him. Achilles hadn't said anything when he returned from Agamemnon's ship but judging by the fact that he returned alone and in a mood that would terrify Ares, Patroklos decided the negotiations hadn't gone well. His cousin had given the orders to ready the ships for departure at first light and then retreated in to the cool interior of his hut.

Patroklos didn't know why he wasn't helping the others prepare, he felt like a sulking child. Yet in his heart he felt a sense of lost opportunity. He wanted to stay to fight, to prove his worth and to see the Trojans and Amazons fight. He frowned at the direction his thoughts were taking but couldn't help the inevitable link made with Phoebe and the last lingering look she had given him. She had been full of fury, like a pot about to boil over, yet that hidden flicker of helplessness had show itself briefly before being locked away. He felt a small twinge of fear in his gut. The Amazon was too erratic to be useful as a slave, even the sort of slave that made Patroklos' stomach turn, but he had seen the demise of Trojan captives. Sacrificed and burnt on the funeral pyres of the fallen Achaean heroes to speed them on their way to Hades but with no one to mourn their own passing or make a sacrifice to their souls.

Patroklos released his suddenly tightened grip on the stick and briefly examined the marks it had made in his hand. The flames licking the timber seemed to have transferred themselves in to his veins. His blood pumped white hot through him and before he knew what he was doing he was on his feet and striding towards Agamemnon's ship in the middle of the beach.

Only slaves remained behind to prepare the baths and evening meal for the army but they didn't notice the solitary soldier moving between the tents and if they did they wouldn't have stopped him. Several guards flanked the entrance to the king's ship but Patroklos wove them a quick lie and they let him pass if only to return to their drinking.

Without the mass of the sweating bodies of the council members the main hall suddenly seemed larger and Patroklos hesitated a moment to gain his bearings. Not being one of the king's favourites, for obvious reasons, he knew little of the rooms beyond this one. His blood pulsed through his veins as his heart rate quickened with nerves but he followed his feet onwards.

He decided to enter a curtain to the right, which lead only to a small hatch plunging into the hull of the ship. He slid carefully though it on to the rungs of the ladder and abruptly found himself in a different world. Gone was the golden finery of the king of Mycenae and his leaders, in its place and more likely holding it up, were the slave's quarters. Below deck, without the constant breeze from the open sea, the air was musty and old. Patroklos felt it press itself against him and infuse upon his tunic.

The storage room in which he found himself was small and cramped; he would touch both walls without reaching his arms to their full extent. The wooden floor was damp, almost rotten, and he slipped slightly as he moved forward.

He left the room and crossed three more to the back of the ship. At the end, enclosed in heavy bars was the holding area for the horses. The smell of fresh blood reached Patroklos' nose and his head reeled as he gripped the bars for support.

His vision cleared and in the darkness he could make out a small shadowy shape huddled in the corner of the stalls. As he moved forward he could no longer muffle the sound of his sandals on the old straw covering the floor.

A pair of eyes flickered open and he could clearly see their whites as they locked on to him. He knew he had found his quarry.

"Phoebe?" he muttered, casting a quick glance around.

She didn't answer except to crouch harder against the wall.

"What have they done to you?" he sighed. Gone was the proud Amazon warrior, in her wake was a creature whose spirit had been broken and crushed. No longer the fearless she wolf but a tamed hunter in whom he hoped the call of the wild still sounded.

The murky light caught the blood on her face and hands. Her knuckles were bruised and broken, at least she had put up a fight, but her wrists were bound tightly and without mercy. A fresh burn glistened in her shoulder and Patroklos recognised it as the brand usually displayed on Agamemnon's horses.

A fresh wave of fury engulfed him and Patroklos threw all his weight on to the heavy wooden doorjamb. It slid back with a crash, which shook the floor, and once more he glanced worriedly behind him to make sure no one heard.

He slid cautiously in to the stall but Phoebe didn't even look at him. He crouched in front of her, as one might do a child, but she averted her eyes, one of which was blackened and swollen. She shuffled half-heartedly away from him and Patroklos felt a twinge of guilt, fearing this had been partly his fault.

He reached out to loosen the rope but Phoebe flinched away from him.

"Still don't trust me?" he smiled.

She gazed at him, her big black eyes empty and fearful. Patroklos was hit by the worrying notion that she didn't remember him.

Carefully, so not to startle her, he ran his hand over her head and when he brought it away his fingers were red with her blood. Frowning, he quickly linked his hand under her arm and pulled her on to her unsteady feet. The Amazon whimpered as his grip tightened around the brand. He released her quickly but she wavered. Fearing a heavy concussion he half carried half dragged Phoebe through the bars and along the stall.

Getting up the ladder proved to be a problem but they finally reached the great hall where he set Phoebe gently down to let her rest briefly. He leaned against the wall, panting heavily from exertion. He was to blame for the Amazons condition, he thought bitterly; well he'd be damned if he was going to leave her, weak, broken spirited and barely conscious.

He stood up and pulled her arm around his broad shoulders. They stumbled across the hall and Patroklos breathed out the air he didn't realise he had been holding when he found that the army was returning and that the guards had left their posts.

He trudged through the course sand as quickly as he could with his unhelpful burden and casting a furtive glance around him ducked in to one of the larger huts along the shore.

A man rose quickly from where he had been stooped over a pallet, disturbed by the intrusion. Salve was clutched in his hands which were gnarled and scared. His young face was lined with worry and his beard was straggly and already graying.

"Patroklos?" he asked, staring in wonder at the semi conscious woman hanging off the boys shoulder.

"I need aid Machaon."

The physician hurried over and opened Phoebe's eyes confirming in an instant a concussion.

"This is the Amazon slave, is it not?" he asked coolly.

"Aye."

"Then why have you brought her here?" he was suspicious Patroklos knew. No one helped slaves.

"Because you're the only one who can help. Please Machaon, I'm asking you as a friend, keep her safe until she is well. Help me."

The physician looked in to the clear blue eyes of his friend and knew there would be no denying him. His caring nature took over and he called a slave to prepare a pallet in a store room to hide the Amazon.

Carefully the two friends maneuvered Phoebe on to the bed. Her groggy eyes fell closed and Machaon cleaned her wounds binding them with herbs.

The young slave boy poked his head around the curtain while he was working.

"My Lord," he addressed Patroklos, "you are wanted in Achilles' hut. The great king is sending an embassy to beg him to stay. You are ordered to return to the black ships."

"Thank you," Patroklos nodded at him as he scurried away.

He sighed deeply, "keep her safe Machaon, I'll come back for her," he said clapping his friend on the shoulder before striding out of the hut.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi guys. Well I'm back, and this time studying Homer for my dissertation at Uni. I hope you like this chapter. It is based on the Iliad and is a bit of a character study of Achilles, it also moves the story forward, I hope. Anyway, enjoy.

Patroklos slowly made his way along the beach, the sharp sand irritating as it found its way into his sandles and between his toes. He was in no rush to return to the black ships as he was unsure what mood he would find Achilles in.

He passed between the rows of tents, catching snippets of conversation in various forms of Greek, some he understood and some which sounded rustic and antiquated to his ears. The talk was not the usual boisterous, crude conversation of soldiers; instead the men were quiet and talked in hushed voices of the events of the day. Patroklos could see several corpses laid on the sand among the tents, with the priests performing the rites of the dead in hushed voices above them. He could smell wood smoke as someone lit a funeral pyre ready for the cremation of the brave and their final journey down to Hades. Men were rushing past him supporting the wounded between them as they hurried their friends to the healers hut. Groans filled the air as the army returned from under the walls of Troy.

The day could not have gone well then, Patroklos mused. No wonder Agamemnon was sending an embassy for Achilles, he had finally realised his value. Of course, he knew how Achilles would react but for a brief second he hoped that his cousin would at least decide to remain in Troy.

Soon he came upon Achilles' tent to find his cousin in a strangely amiable mood, sitting outside the hut strumming on a lyre. Patroklos listened carefully to the muttered words and realised his cousin was singing the about great heroes of the past in whose mighty footsteps he wished to tread. Patroklos thought it typical that while the Achaeans were suffering his cousin should sit here worrying about his own pathway to glory. The reason for his good mood must only be that the Greeks had realised how much they fail without him and that Agamemnon was rueing dishonouring him.

Patroklos threw himself on the ground at a distance from Achilles in case his anger was only buried in a shallow grave. He listened with only half his attention to the lyre in his cousins hands while his mind wandered back to the store room in the healers hut.

The sound of approaching feet caught both their attention and as one they raised their heads to great the visitors. Achilles deliberately finished his song before standing slowly.

"Welcome my friends," he said as if he had been expecting them and holding out his arms in greeting, "it is a pleasure to see you. You must feast with us before we talk. Patroklos, fetch wine and meat."

Patroklos hated being referred to in this way; as if he were still a child one could order about. To any other man he would have objected, telling him to use his slaves rather than his family, but he knew Achilles would not tolerate any insult against his honour and standing. So he jumped to his feet and busied himself with Achilles' orders while his cousin directed Odysseus, Ajax and the elderly Phoenix into the hut.

He rushed through his tasks as he was desperate to hear the council of the men inside. He cut meat from the bone roasting on a spit close to the ships and laid it carefully on a terracotta plate while shoving a few scraps into his mouth. He grabbed some bread and quickly mixed some wine before carrying it all into the hut.

The men were seated comfortably around the tent and Patroklos laid the food on a low table in the centre and proceeded to pour the wine. Once they had all eaten, Odysseus leaned back and said in measured tones "Achilles, I am sure you know why we are here."

"Please Odysseus, do not spoil our evening with Agamemnon's heavy words," Achilles replied as amicably as he could, "just tell the king that I will not be returning to battle as my men and I are leaving directly tomorrow morning."

"At least hear his offers son of Peleus," Ajax cut in, "I think you will find them handsome."

Taking Achilles' silence as a cue to continue, Odysseus quickly rolled off a list which made Patroklos' eyes widen. Such wealth the Great King had at his beckoning. Gold, armour, horse, chariots, seven beautiful slave women, the list seemed endless until finally, "he even offers you one of his daughters, whichever you find the most pleasing, as wife and a country within his borders to rule as your own," Odysseus finished.

Achilles sat in silence for a while as if musing over the wealth offered to him. "A handsome offer indeed," he finally said, "yet Agamemnon does not offer the girl Briseis with the settlement. He clearly does not understand that he has damaged my honour beyond what a hoard of possessions and slaves can cure. It is an apology I want."

"Achilles be reasonable!" Ajax boomed, "Such riches will make you one of the wealthiest Achaean leaders, second only to Agamemnon himself."

"Exactly," Achilles replied "but I am not second to Agamemnon in any way and I will not accept his offer as he would take this to mean that I would follow him. Material wealth I can gain for myself. I will not bow to a fool like Agamemnon who thinks he is a greater king than I."

Patroklos, who was sitting out of the way in a corner, sighed inwardly. In his opinion Achilles was rather over reacting. True no formal apology had been made but at least Agamemnon was trying to redeem himself, even though his tactics were not to Achilles' taste. Patroklos, being raise in such a male dominated environment, understood a warrior's need for _kleos (fame/honour) _but thought that the amount of wealth Agamemnon was prepared to lavish of Achilles should be enough to restore anyone's glory. Of course, he never would have shared his opinion with the embassy as he was no orator but mainly because he feared Achilles reaction.

"Achilles, think of your friends," Odysseus said, changing his approach. "We need you out there. Have you looked over the wall tonight? If you did you would see the lights of the Trojan watch fires. They are pitched right outside our defences. I worry that we will not hold them another day and that man killing Hector will drive us back and set fire to the ships."

"Then your problem is with Agamemnon. I return to Greece all the same. I shall live out my days in obscurity rather than die in a blaze of glory under the Trojan walls."

"But think of your father Achilles," Phoenix said, talking for the first time since entering the tent, "would the great Peleus want his son to return from Troy without honour?"

A cloud passed over the god like face of Achilles. He sat in silent contemplation, looking at no one. Patroklos knew that with those few simple words Phoenix had struck a cord. Peleus was a great hero of old who had rejoiced that his son should go to Troy to win fame. He was old and broken now, a shadow of his former glory. His life and honour now came through his son.

After a long period of terrible silence, Achilles spoke. "Tell Agamemnon I shall not accept his offer and his embassy has failed. I will not return to the fighting until my glory is properly restored. However, I will remain in Troy."

"Well, Achilles" said Odysseus with not a small hint of regret in his voice "I can see that your mind will not be changed. I will take your message to the king. However, there was one other matter he wanted to address. Agamemnon would like to know the whereabouts of his Amazon slave."

"What?" Achilles replied sharply.

"From what I gather the slave has vanished and I believe Agamemnon suspects you."

"Well I am afraid Agamemnon is wrong and once again proves his foolishness. What sort of king cannot control his slaves?" Achilles snorted, "farewell friends and tell Agamemnon I do not like men who say one thing with another meaning concealed in their hearts."

With this he stood up abruptly and marched straight backed out of the tent.

Patroklos looked around at the faces of the embassy. They were alarmed at Achilles' statement and had clearly not expected to fail. He cleared his throat nervously and standing bid farewell to the guests.

Once they had passed from view, he cast a quickly glance for Achilles but couldn't find him and hurried the short distance to the sea, kicking his sandals off when he reached it. He stood in the surf and buried his toes in the sinking sand, thinking furiously. His heart was still pumping from the question Odysseus had asked. Of course he had expected Agamemnon to miss his slave but not so quickly. His mind turned to Pheobe lying with a terrible fever in the healers store room. He wanted to return to her but it was too soon and would be dangerous for the both of them. At least Achilles had decided to stay. This would allow him more time to return her to the Amazons. He briefly entertained the idea of capturing her for his own and taking her back to Greece but knew that this would be a pointless venture. Agamemnon would have him surrounded just as he surrounded the Trojans for Helen. Equally, Pheobe was to wild and free to live as a simple wife in Greece. Patroklos picked up a stone and hurled it with all his might into the sea. He had never felt more confused in his life and it angered him. Everything used to be so clear. But suddenly he found himself concerned that, if ever he were to see battle, he would not want to kill Trojans and their allies. He would have to bide his time, he could not see her now.

He stood quietly with the waves licking at his feet until he heard Achilles' bellowing voice calling his name.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello, thank you reviewers! I'm so glad I came back to this story; I'd forgotten how much I enjoy writing it. So I hope you like the new chapter and reviews really do help me update faster. x

"Penthesilea," the cracked voice whispered tirelessly into the darken room, "Penthesilea, my Queen, find me. Find me."

The two seated men watched with furrowed brows as the Amazon spoke restlessly into the darkness. It was unsettling listening to her words, their repetition sounded like a religious chant or demonic spell. Patroklos, slumped against the wall, had a sudden imagining that the Amazons were about to pour into the camp to reclaim their lost sister when they heard her call. After all, they were only resting out of an archers range beyond the Greek defenses.

"What's happening to her my friend?" he asked Machaon as the healer carefully prepared some dried crushed herbs in an oil burner.

"Her body is strong; the gods have blessed her in many areas of fighting," he replied. "She seeks to destroy the fever that is coursing through her veins. She will win the fight; I just hope she will not be too weak when it leaves her. So it is best to for me to help."

He lit a taper from a burning lamp whose fatty smoke lingered in the constricted air and stuck to the men's clothing. Whispering a soft prayer to Asclepius, Machaon lit the herbs in the oil burner so that a pungent smoke column rippled from the tiny spark of flames. He carefully lifted Phoebe's head and held the burner up to her face.

Her eyes flicked as the smoke snaked into her nostrils and a strange animal like whimper escaped her lips. She tried to turn her head away from the incense but Machaon held her firmly against his chest to make sure she could not move. As the smoke became heavier and more flowed into her lungs, Phoebe lashed out with her free arm.

"Don't just sit there Patroklos, help me!" Machaon gasped and Patroklos slid onto the palette on the behind the struggling Amazon and pulled her into his arms. Now with both his hands free Machaon could hold the smoke steadily under Phoebe's face.

Patroklos felt her shudder in his arms and she tried to bury her face into his chest. He smiled to himself; he rather liked holding the Amazon against his body in this way. Her eyes were flickering manically as with a great heaving sigh they snapped open and her arched body fell limply against Patroklos' chest.

Phoebe's dark wild eyes shot around her surroundings as she struggled to get her bearings. The darkness was oppressive and there was very little light to see by. The men leaning over her were suffocating. She longed to tell them to leave her alone and let her breathe but she found the words stuck in her throat which was coarse and dry. She shivered manically yet she could not decide whether she was hot or cold. Her blood was hammering through her veins and she was breathing as if she had just run a great distance or fought a rewarding battle.

"Phoebe?" a questioning voice trickled into her slow working ears which felt like they had a covering of cloth which prevented any noise filtering through them.

She turned her eyes upwards, trying to move her head as little as possible, and found a pair of blue ones burning into her own. She was lost for a moment in thoughts of calm water and felt her body relax a small amount at the strange reassurance she found in the blue depths.

"Water," she gasped, her voice coming out raspy and making her cough hard, which brought a thumping like a drum to the front of her head. A large hand carefully bought a cup to her lips and let just a few drops touch their cracked surface. The water was cool and as her tongue traced the moisture along her lips she brought up her fingers to catch the hand holding the cup. She brought both to her mouth and drunk greedily as the cup was gently tilted to let a steady trickle of water flow down her throat.

Machaon smiled as he watched his friend nurse the woman in his arms. He pondered for a while that he had never seen the boy look so calm, he who was normally eager for action. There was a look in Patroklos' eyes as he watched Phoebe drink which made the healer long for his own wife in far away Hellas, so much like lovers the pair looked.

He put a hand on Patroklos' shoulder and used his support to stand. "Make sure she drinks a couple of those," he said, "she will have a terrible thirst for a while. Also, build up the fire, she will be cold and it will not do to let her shiver, this will just make her more vulnerable. As it is, I think she will feel much better in a few hours."

Patroklos lifted his handsome head and said, "How can I ever thank you Machaon?"

Machaon laughed "I'll think of something. How far into the night are we? Will Achilles be wanting you back soon?"

"It is barely past sundown, I left almost after the embassy failed. I doubt he will want me back for the night. He is in a foul mood and prefers to be by himself praying to his mother."

"That is well," Machaon replied, "I have other patients to attend to, Hektor was not kind to us today. You must stay with the Amazon tonight to make sure the fever does not reappear."

Patroklos bowed his head in acquiescence to this request. "You are a good man."

"Too good," Machaon laughed, "come and fetch me if any drastic changes occur." With this, he gathered up a few instruments and left Patroklos, still holding Phoebe in his arms, alone.

The silence spread around the pair as the night wrapped its silky black fingers over the beach and a soft breeze found its way through the wooden walls of the healers hut. Patroklos started to feel uncomfortable holding the Amazon but saying nothing. However, when he cleared his throat and glanced down at her face he realised her eyes were closed. Thinking she had fallen asleep, he carefully unwound his arms from her body and laid her on the palette. He reached for a blanket he had brought from his own tent and gently covered her with it so that just her head was visible above it. He shuffled, still at a crouch to the small fire in the middle of the store room and began to heap more wood into the hearth.

"You came for me didn't you?" The voice made him jump and he turned to see Phoebe's eyes upon him from above the blanket. He voice was low and grave, he wondered how often she laughed, it would be nice to hear her laugh.

He cleared his throat again and Phoebe watched an embarrassed flush spread across his face. She knew he had come for her, that it had been he who had descended into the bowels of Agamemnon's ship to get her. Those blue eyes were on her again and she felt the same calm fall over her, she could be sucked in by those eyes and lost forever. These were strange thoughts to be having but as she watched the light from the flickering fire softly highlight the man in front of her, she knew there would be no stopping them. It was a feeling like none she had experienced before. Along with gratitude there was a strange sickening sensation in her stomach that she got from riding a horse in full gallop. He was like a statue she decided. If he wasn't one already someone should commission him to sit for one. But she wondered whether any artist would be able to capture the strong jaw line and broad shoulders, the soft bow of his lips which were currently parted as if he were about to speak, or the keenness of his gaze.

The night spread around them as the pair regarded each other.

"I did come for you," Patroklos replied eventually as if expecting her to reprimand him, "it was my fault you were there."

Phoebe shivered and pulled the blanket higher under her chin. There was no need to say anything else, he knew she was grateful yet she was fearful for him, she hoped no one else would find out what he had done. He moved over to sit beside her, she felt prone looking up at him with half his face masked in shadow.

"Tell me about you land?" he asked suddenly.


End file.
